The Butter Cake Quest
by AWarriorsWounds
Summary: When friends and foes unite to search for butter cake, anything can happen. Don't take this seriously. At all.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, again! So I see you've chosen to read my newest fic- The Butter Cake Quest. This was something thought up at 1 in the morning, so...hilarity ensues.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill, and Doritos cheese burns your eyes. D:**

Henry settled himself into the uncomfortably crowded couch, squished in between Eileen and Cynthia as the two women fought for his attention. Behind him, the hot breath of Red Pyramid Thing, also known as Red, warmed his neck. In front of him were more people than he ever thought could possibly fit in the tiny living room of Room 302. He sunk further into the cushions; he was terrible in social situations.

In the corner, Bogeyman and Alex were having an arm wrestling match while Elle cheered on her new husband, who was failing miserably to the eight-feet tall Pyramid Head. Alessa and Heather stared each other down on opposite sides of the coffee table; James and Maria were being watched by Frank, who stood in a corner, stroking a small box. Henry recognized it as the umbilical cord. By the fridge were a small group of Slurpers, chowing down on the raw meat from the fridge with ugly, sucking sounds. And, for some reason, Valtiel stood in the center of the room.

"Will everyone shut up and listen?" the angel called over the din. Bogeyman slammed Alex's hand to the table without resistance, cracking the wood. The people continued talking.

"QUIET!" Red boomed, effectively silencing the room and scaring the living daylights out of Henry. Even the Slurpers quit eating.

"I think you all know why you were called here," Valtiel began. "And no, Frank, it was not so you could show off your umbilical cord. Jesus Christ, why did you even _bring _that thing?"

Frank hugged his box protectively.

"I hope you never had kids," Valtiel continued, shaking his head. James paused in picking his nose. "Oh. That's right. Uh...nevermind. We must replenish our butter cake stock." His voice carried a tone of urgency.

Red scoffed, lighting up a cigarette.

"Because of _Red, _a stray spark burned three years' worth of butter cake." Valtiel pointed a finger accusingly at the huge Pyramid Head.

"Wait," Heather laughed, "_how _much butter cake?"

"A three-year supply." Valtiel stared at her curiously.

"Why do we need so much?" Heather questioned.

"It's a delicious confection that can be eaten in the event of some cataclysm. While humans outside scuttle around, eating their own feces and even themselves, we will be dining daily on ALL THE BUTTER CAKE WE CAN STUFF OUR FACES WITH." Valtiel chortled menacingly, rubbing his palms together.

Henry mumbled, "What the hell?"

"So...yeah. We're going on a hunt for butter cake, lest we-" Valtiel shuddered-"_buy _some from Shepherd's Glen."

James asked, "Will there be dirty toilets for us to stick our hands down?" That started a cascade of more questions.

"Will there be umbilical cords?"

"Do I need to do any special favors?"

"Do I _have _to go?" Heather complained.

Valtiel addressed each person in turn. "No, Good Lord no, maybe, yes."

"Excellent," chuckled Cynthia.

"We'll seperate into pairs or small groups. Get with a partner or partners now." Valtiel stepped back to allow the people to break up.

Cynthia and Eileen both snatched one of Henry's arms, glaring at each other over Henry's head. Alex was claimd by Elle and, strangely, Bogeyman. Frank chose his umbilical cord while James nabbed Maria. The monsters continued eating, not interested in hunting for butter cakes. The only people left were Heather, Alessa, and Red.

"We'll go alone." Heather spoke for herself and Alessa.

"No, you can't," Valtiel replied firmly.

"And why not?" Heather set her jaw stubbornly.

"Silent Hill's sexist, that's why." Valtiel crossed his arms. "Women can't survive without a male companion. Look at Maria. She got killed _twice _without James. Eileen would have walked straight into the Killing Machine if Henry didn't rescue her. Elle nearly got killed by one of the first monsters she saw. Seriously, women's rights go back ten years with each step you take into Silent Hill."

Heather huffed, stomping her foot. "Whatever, you pig."

Alessa bounced forward, throwing her arms around Red's legs since she was too short to reach his waist. "Sorry, Heather, but you can take Frank," she snickered.

"I hate kids, I hate kids, I hate kids," Heather muttered to herself.

"Wanna see my umbilical cord?" Frank offered, extending the box.

"Valtiel, can I go with you instead?"

"No. May the hunt begin!" Valtiel announced gleefully.

The large throng filed at half a mile an hour spilled out into the hall; because of Red and Bogeyman's sheer size, their helmets catching on the doorway. The wooden frame snapped, leaving Henry to eye it disapprovingly.

"You couldn't have ducked?" he protested, stepping around the new dusting of plaster on his carpet.

"What did you say, pretty boy?" Red whipped around, brandishing his spear threateningly.

"N-nothing," Henry stuttered, staring at the huge and extremely sharp tip.

"That's what I thought, pansy." Red continued walking, a swagger to his step.

In the middle of the horde were Bogeyman, Alex, and Elle. Elle walked abreast to Bogeyman, who was striking up conversation with her.

"So, your husband's in the army, eh?" Bogeyman questioned, dragging along his Great Knife. "Should I buy you a drink?" His shameless comment made Elle laugh.

"Down, boy," Alex muttered. "She's _my _wife, get your own."

To that the shirtless Bogeyman replied, "I'll take yours. You'll find another."

Alex shot a glare at Elle, who chose to ignore it.

At the very back were Heather, James, Maria,and Frank. Heather bore a deep scowl as James and Frank were having the father-son argument of a dysfunctional family.

"Do I need to bring my chainsaw?" James asked, referring to his favorite weapon. He did, however, have the tendency to go a bit crazy with it.

"Of course you don't, idiot." Frank whacked him over the head with the box.

"Owww!"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it," Frank apologized sincerely.

"Aw, that's okay, Daddy!" James wrapped his arms around his father, only to be pushed away.

"Not you, the umbilical cord." Frank eyed James with a look of pure disgust.

"Why me?" Heather moaned.

Walter crept through the open door into Room 302, finding the place completely trashed. Furniture was overturned, Slurpers were tearing into prime ribs in the kitchen, and cigarettes smoked on the floor.

"Oh, Mother," he murmured, "what have they done to you?"

He sat himself down on the couch, stomping out a cigarette which was burning through the carpet.

"Guys?" he called. "I'm here!"

No response.

"Damn it. Am I late again?"


	2. Chapter 2

**HI! Welcome back to the search for delicious, buttery goodness. I just thought I'd tell those of you who aren't really sure what butter cake is that it is an object in Silent Hill games 1, 2, and 3. It's an in-joke, with players trying to locate all the boxes they can. BUTTER CAKE MUST BE IN DOWNPOUR. I AM CREATING A PETITION.**

***chants* BUTTER CAKE IN DOWNPOUR, BUTTER CAKE IN DOWNPOUR**

**Oh. Anyway, enjoy. :D (And happy likely belated birthday to Ark Rage!)**

Henry, Eileen, and Cynthia began their hunt in Subway World, and _not _the kind of Subway World with the delicious sandwiches. Since Henry was the type to always be prepared for blood-sucking dogs and loons seeking to complete the 21 Sacraments, he brought his favorite ax.

Subway World would seem like a strange place to begin the quest for butter cake, but those who had been to Silent Hill knew butter cake could hide anywhere.

"Enlighten me." Eileen rolled her eyes. "Why are we looking for butter cake on subway tracks?"

"Don't question the man," Cynthia replied, running a finger down Henry's crimson cheek. He glanced at Eileen awkwardly and continued walking.

"Should we check the snack bar?" Eileen suggested.

"Does Subway World even _have _a snack bar?" Cynthia jumped down the taller brunette's throat instantly.

Eileen raised her eyebrow, then jerked her head in the direction of a darkened snack bar. Cynthia did not comment.

Henry vaulted over the counter, narrowly avoiding the corpse of a skinless dog; he rummaged through the cupboards, reading off the contents under his breath.

"Shotgun shells...handgun...health drinks...chainsaw... What the hell kind of snack bar is this?" Henry mumbled, lifting the bloody chainsaw above his head. Cynthia started and scooted back. Eileen strode forward to claim it, shooting a pointed glance at her nemesis before testing it once, alarming Cynthia even more.

"Ah! One box!" Henry tossed over a yellow package, emblazoned with a picture of a cake and the words "Butter Cake" in large, blue letters. "And...that's all."

oOoOoOo

Alessa bounced ahead of Red as they traipsed through the dusty halls of Alchemilla Hospital, the young girl bugging the Pyramid Head mercilessly.

_Whatever, _he thought, _I need a cigarette to deal with her. _

As he withdrew the pack, Alessa's dark eyes widened and she smacked it away. It spilled its contents (the remaining cigarettes, all three of them) down the hall; Red turned angrily on the little jerk.

"What was that for?" he growled.

"You shouldn't smoke because you'll get lung cancer and then you'll _die!_" Alessa explained. "I learned that in school."

Red sighed heavily. "And when have you ever gone to school? You're a manifestation."

Alessa simply shrugged.

Red shook his head.

"Do you and Bogeyman get along?" Alessa asked, walking backwards so she could face him as they continued on.

"No." He shoved past her.

"Why not?"

"He's an American knockoff that has no place in Silent Hill. I'm surprised the pansy isn't morbidly obese," Red replied.

"He's my friend!" Alessa stomped on his foot. "Take back what you said!"

"Honey, this isn't the kindergarten playground. This is the real world. The real world is a cruel, unforgiving place. There are no take-backs." Better to teach children valuable life lessons when they're still young.

Alessa ran away, crying.

"Get back here!" Red yelled, making a futile attempt to catch her as she sprinted into one of the rooms. He followed her into the pitch-black area. "Way to go, you're cornered." He chuckled softly in triumph, feeling his way around.

A blue-clad shape raced back out; Red turned in pursuit. Too tall for the short doorway, he effectively clotheslined himself, landing painfully on his back. When he made an effort to get back up, a butter cake box slammed into his chest and knocked him down once more.

"Screw this," he muttered, reaching for his cigarette pack. "I need a smoke if I'm going to be dealing with her." Then he remembered they were all scattered across the hallway. He didn't bother getting up.

oOoOoOo

"Do not fret, my dear, for soon we shall find the butter cakes," Frank soothed as he, James, Maria, and Heather tromped through Lakeview Hotel.

Lakeview Hotel, when not transitioning into the Otherworld, was a beautiful place. Teeming with Abstract Daddies and Graychildren, who came to visit when Midwich Elementary School ran dry of victims, but still a good place to relax.

"Is he talking to the flipping umbilical cord again?" Heather inquired quietly to Maria.

"Of course." Maria sighed. "Is it just me, or are we getting nowhere?"

"We can go to Room 312!" James suggested.

Maria shook her head, and Heather felt as though she were missing something.

"Any... particular reason?" she inquired.

James paused, then shook his head. "Not really. Just a bunch of holes I pounded into the walls and my wife's corpse."

Heather squeaked, "Oh."

"Do you want to split up?" Maria asked, leaning closer to the younger woman.

"Sounds great." They turned and loped down the hallway; the men did not notice.

**You may have noticed I skipped Alex's group. The chapters are going to go with one bunch of people, so I don't have one million oOoOoOo's every time I switch to someone else; he, Bogeyman, and Elle will be next. :D I hope you liked this chapter enough to review, and until next time, buhbye! **


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm mastering my creepy Hamburger Helper greeting: HELLOOO! Sweet Raptor Jesus that was AMAZING.**

**I'm finally updating my BCQ story, starting with Alex Shepherd, my favorite character. *grabby hands* Fret not, reviewers, Henry's group will come soon. *swoon* Second favorite character!**

Alex Shepherd had a deep frown on his face and an iron pipe grasped tightly in his hand as he walked behind Bogeyman, that freak of nature (and a total knockoff to boot), and Elle Shepherd, his wife. Bogeyman was shamelessly flirting with her, and she was fawning all over him.

Alex figured he was cleared to loathe Bogey with a burning passion unmatched by any force on the Earth. Crimson throbbed at the edges of his vision as he closed in like a predator to its kill. That... that _demon... _was _flirting. With. His. Wife. _Oh, and he killed Alex's father, right in front of him.

What? Alex did not have good relationships with his parents.

With Bogeyman crossed off of the mental guest list for Adam Shepherd's funeral, Alex raised his pipe silently while Bogey and Elle talked and laughed. One sharp crack to the shoulder downed him, a water buffalo with a lion at its throat, and a few blows to the chest with feet and weapon knocked him out. With Bogeyman unconcious, Alex withdrew rope without missing a beat from a tote bag for butter cake, one that read "I Got Raped by Pyramid Head and All I got was this Lousy Tote Bag", and wrapped Bogey in it. Straining against the half-ton weight on what was relatively a flimsy string, he dragged his foe to a closet in the Silent Hill Historical Society over broken glass.

His nemesis disposed of, locked in the closet and sleeping like a baby, Alex glared daggers at Elle and stalked on.

"What the heck, Alex?" She jogged after him, frustrated.

"I don't want some other man flirting with my wife," he growled. He thought with jealousy of Bogey's rippling muscles underneath a smooth hide. How could any mortal compete with _that?_

Elle shoved his shoulder roughly, slamming his back against a wall. "We weren't flirting, you dolt," she muttered. "We were talking about the wedding. Remember, he attended?"

Alex replied, smirking slightly, "How couldn't I remember that?"

Bogeyman walked awkwardly into the church, his flesh kilt worn over immaculate black trousers. He did not relinquish the helmet, but he did have the common decency to put on a shirt and leave the Great Knife at home. Alex eyed him angrily from where he stood at the altar, wringing his hands and remembering the knife he had stashed in his pocket.

The flower girl pranced happily down the aisle, Elle's friend's daughter, scattering little white petals. Alex tensed as she approached Bogey's pew, one of the middle benches.

Samantha screeched to a halt, blue eyes wide and one porcelain-white hand frozen halfway to the basket. She stumbled back a few steps, then screamed and whipped around. The blonde bolted back down the aisle, nearly knocking down Elle in her sparkly, lacy gown.

Alex sprang into action, literally. He pounced on Bogey, yanking him from his seat and pulling him to the floor and unleashing the hatred pent-up from his stay in Silent Hill in the form of lots and lots of stabbing. The guests screamed in terror as blood sprayed their clean outfits. When Alex straightened, finished with his violent and seemingly unprovoked attack on Bogey, his suit was ripped and somehow, he'd lost his shirt in the scuffle. The wedding continued, but Alex had to pay $500 to replace his rental tuxedo.

"Those were good times," he laughed, flashback over.

"Yes, and I remember biting your split lip when you kissed me." Elle smiled. "That'll teach you to beat the living daylights out of someone."

Alex turned serious and did not reply; Elle rolled her eyes and sighed.

"I think we should seperate," she suggested innocently.

"What?" Alex spluttered. "No... we...but... I love you!"

"To look for butter cake," she finished, shaking her head.

"Oh." Alex nodded shortly.

Elle looked skyward, mouthing an oath or two before stating, "I'll search the entrance. You can untie Bogey and take the exhibits."

Alex, still shaken by the near-divorce, mumbled, "Fine." If it would save his marriage...

Elle nodded, satisfied, and strode away. Alex, when he was sure she was out of sight, shoved a chair under the doorknob of the closet in an effort to keep Bogey in. He heard shuffling and a grunt of, "Why am I tied up?"

Alex strode down the dim hall, clicking on the flashlight in his jacket pocket to survey a line of oddly-shaped displays. A sign, a green arch with plain white letters, read 'The History of Pyramid Heads'.

_...Interesting. _He eyed the first object, a metal square with gears and knobs of various sizes. The description was:

_The original Pyramid Head helmet was not a pyramid at all._

_It was actually a square of lead, and was such for many years,_

_until less toxic and more streamlined helmets were created._

_Also, the moniker "Block Head" never caught on; it just_

_wasn't intimidating enough._

Alex chuckled and continued to the next helmet in the lineup: a circle. He didn't want to know.

After a foray into geometry, he returned to the block helmet as though it were beckoning him. He noticed what appeared to be a moving tail underneath the lip of metal, flicking and lashing. Cautiously readying the pipe, he pushed the helmet, which weighed about as much as Elle, to the ground.

_Bang! _A thunderous clap roared throughout the small building as metal hit fragile, worn tile. A crack formed suddenly formed in the limestone and a rat scuttled away, revealing three neatly stacked boxes of butter cake. Closer inspection revealed the packages were only slightly nibbled on in the corners, but no animal had gnawed through the cardboard.

"What the hell?" he muttered, wondering why someone would keep food, albeit food with a spectacular shelf life, underneath a dusty old helmet for Valtiel knows how long.

Meanwhile, in Subway World, Henry was accosted suddenly and randomly by an intense migraine. He fell to the floor, screaming, "Ow, my head!"

Alex flipped over the next helmet, a circle. Same result: three boxes of butter cake.

"What the hell?" he repeated.

Henry's heart briefly stopped while Eileen and Cynthia tried to perform mouth-to-mouth, getting into a fight over who was going to do it and forgetting the guy who nearly died lying on the floor and having difficulty breathing.

Alex had a hunch, totally out of the blue, that if he said "What the hell?" one more time, it would have dire consequences. So he piled in the butter cake and went to find Elle.

oOoOoOo

Bogey had no recollection of where he was or how he'd gotten into a confined space with something rubbing his muscular arms and chest raw and digging into deep stab wounds that he really did not feel. All he remembered was: _Shepherd. _The lousy traitor had attacked him from behind and knocked him out cold, all for talking casually with Elle about the wedding.

"You looked beautiful," he complemented her. "And Alex looked good with his shirt off."

_Bang! _He hit the floor like a lead weight dropped from a clock tower. Shepherd sure was the master of cheap shots- Bogey remembered watching the jerk dart behind Snippy, Bogey's former best friend, and murdering her brutally with a chainsaw. She had kids and everything! Shepherd didn't even give a crap, he just cut right thorugh her when she tried to introduce herself. And then there was Zerox, a Butcher who ran the Silent Hill Feral Kennel Club, the breeding association dedicated to breeding high-quality Ferals for shows and pets.

Zerox made the mistake of letting his prized and pregnant bitches and dog (the Feral term for a male) Ferals. Every Feral except two, Fluffy and Daisy, a dog and a bitch, respectively, returned alive that night. They were all killed by none other than Shepherd, with the exception of a dog who bolted in front of a moving car. Sickening. Zerox was totally distraught and his beloved Ferals had trust issues ever since, with only Fluffy showing any sign of progress. Daisy still roamed the Labyrinth with her and Fluffy's puppies.

Bogey shuddered when he thought of all the destruction caused by that demon. There was an entire file in the Silent Hill Historical Society dedicated to Shepherd's crimes. No one was safe from the true monster.

With a grunt of determination, he tore the ropes from his body and shouldered down the door. He had no idea what he was going to do, but his entrance was _awesome._

**That's all, folks! I can haz review? x3 I'm holding the next chapter up for ransom... if you want to see it, you know what to do. :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Welp, it's butter cake time. :D**

** Here, have (half a chapter of) Henry. C:**

Weren't the women ever going to give up?

They argued and hit one another like spoiled children, Eileen and Cynthia. Eileen already had red welts on her cheek with pinpoints of blood where Cynthia scratched her with her faux nails, and Cynthia found just how skilled Eileen was with a knife. Silent Hill women were _lawless, _and that repulsed the taciturn, altruistic Henry. He mulled briefly over shoving one of them into the path of an oncoming sub. He glanced hopefully this way and that, waiting for a train to come barreling by.

Nope. Not a sub to be had. The gods worked in Cynthia's favor today.

"Ladies..." he tried speaking out softly. "Ladies?"

Eileen brandished her dagger threateningly. "I swear, I will kill you again, Temptation." She used Cynthia's 21 Sacraments name, a low blow, but enough to shut the annoying demon up.

Henry rubbed his temples, wishing he could teleport back to Room 302 and pick up where he left off on his newest novel, a guilty pleasure titled "Eclipse", something he and his book club elected to read. Valtiel enjoyed it thoroughly, and Alex plotted suicide by running into the street and pleading a monster to put him out of his misery.

"Butter cake...?" he reminded them.

"Screw Valtiel." Cynthia waved him off with one bloody, greenish hand. "If he wants butter cake so damn bad, he can come get it himself."

"Let's check the bathrooms," Eileen suggested.

Eileen and Henry hopped down onto the tracks and back up again on the other side, leaving Cynthia on the opposite terminal.

"Coming?" Eileen chirped innocently.

Henry whispered, "You _know _that's where she was killed, right?"

Eileen's hand flew to her mouth in mock shock. "_Really?" _she gasped.

"What's with you guys?" Henry genuinely did not know the reason for their animosity.

Eileen scoffed. "Nothing- let's move." She strode on, mumbling to herself. _Freakin' men, _she thought, shaking her head and heaving the door to the women's bathroom open, avoiding the sticky puddle of dried blood.

Henry shrugged at Cynthia from across the terminal. "What the hell, huh?"

oOoOoBUBBLESoOoOo

Bogeyman angrily knocked back a shot of vodka, slamming it down on the wood bar with excessive force. The bartender ducked from the flying shrapnel, and his drinking buddies leaned away. Red growled as he picked a shard out of the square hole in his helmet, and Harry nearly dropped his appletini.

"What's the matter with you?" the bartender snapped, staring at the broken mess of clear fluid and glass littering the splintered crater created by the fury of Bogey's fist.

"Why don't you tell me?" Bogey stood up menacingly, a full meter taller than the man.

"S-sorry, man- thing- whatever you are." He backed into the drink case, knocking over a few wine glasses."I'll clean this up right away." With that, he bolted from the bar.

Bogey triumphantly sat down again, swiveling his stool to face the round tables where people ate, drank, smoked, and watched the nurses do their things on their red stages, steely eyes meeting him. The nurses stopped dancing, surprised by his sudden outburst, and even the music scratched to a stop.

"Free beer?" He tried lightening the mood, swiveling back and ducking his head, a bit difficult to do because of the rusty pyramind he lugged around on his head. "Dammit."

"Huh?" Red finished his Jaegerbomb, deliberately setting it down gently.

"Everyone knows me as being the _polite _Pyramid Head," Bogey growled. "_You're _the one who'd start a bar fight, Red, and here I am, scaring that rookie out of his wits."

Red laughed thunderously, so loud the earth seemed to tremor. "You wuss! That can't even be called a bar scuffle! I'll show you a _real _bar fight."

Bogey grabbed his friend's shoulder, but that did not stop him from getting up and finding his Great Knife.

"'Ey, you!" Red pointed at a Butcher, then a Raw Shock. "That guy said your mother was fat!"

_"No one calls my mother fat!" _the Butcher roared, flying across the room to yank the unsuspecting Raw Shock from his seat and unleash a world of hurt.

Satisfied, Red leaned against the bar and watched the spectacle unfold. "See? _That _is what I call a bar fight. Watch this Butcher repeatedly beat the Raw Shock while the Raw Shock can only kind of claw him with those weird back feet. And bite him. That creepy ass deserved it."

Bogey, horrified, could only gawk.

"Yeah, it's time to go." Red fled the scene, Harry trailing behind him.

Bogey politely called to the bartender, who eyed the Pyramid Head apprehensively from a dark corner, "Check, please?"

Red jerked Bogey along. "Put it on the tab!" Bogey ordered.

Murphy Pendleton was left to bitterly sweep up sparkling fragments and wish he had never committed the crime that landed him here. A felon, this Silent Hill bar was the best work he could find after escaping the crashed prison bus. He fit in here, and found a sort of humanity and companionship within the creatures that he was denied beyond the town's evergreen sign. At first, the place was more dangerous than the inmate named "Bubba" and dropping the soap in a prison shower (he'd swiftly learned two things: One, how to snatch objects mid-fall and two, he did not need soap if the first lesson failed) but it grew on him.

With a filthy old rag, he swept shattered shards into a wastebasket, indifferently spectating the violent fight progressing into a full-on war. The nurses had left their respective poles and were taking sides, cheering on the winner. In a surprising upset, it was the Raw Shock, devouring the Butcher head-first. Murphy shuddered and focused solely on the glass.

A red glow startled him and he dropped the wastebasket, gazing into the corner like a child in the headlights of a rapidly advancing truck where he'd been standing a minute ago. _Oh God, the memories were flaring up again..._

The Void leered at him silently, pulsating and advancing ever so slightly.

_Oh shi- _He leaped over the bar and dashed out of the building into the fog, tearing off his apron and discarding it carelessly on the curb.

**That's all, folks. :D Happy New Year!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'll update PH's Bad Romance soon, but the butter cake... it beckons me...**

Red trotted, teetering precariously, in the dark streets of Silent Hill, too top-heavy for a gait quicker than a sluggish walk. Bogeyman anxiously eyed the bar, expecting the Raw Shocks to spill onto the road at any moment, angrily crying for his blood for calling a wrongful fight. Harry swigged the last of his appletini, chucking the glass into an abandoned yard.

"Hey! Wait up!" called a man loping after them, tailed by an amorphous crimson mass. In the gloomy fog, he did not see who he was following, but he prayed they were friendly.

Red was not initially going to stop, but Bogeyman's strong hand grabbing his wrist forced him to slow his lumbering, unsteady pace.

"He needs help," said Bogeyman, eyeing the man swiftly closing the distance between him and the small group.

Puffing, a man similar to Henry Townshend in appearance joined them, eyes frantically flitting from the pulsing light left behind at the bar doorway to the two massive chunks of muscle with rusty pyramid helmets on their heads. He backed up- he'd sooner take his chances with the Void than get skewered by a spear slimy with congealed blood or cut in two by the oversized knife the other lugged around.

"Hey- I recognize you," Murphy panted. "You're the guys- from the bar. And you broke one of the shot glasses... and the bar." He glared defiantly at Bogeyman.

"Relax, man." Red raised his gloved hands, spear clenched in one. "Do I need to bring out Sir Stabbyspear?"

Murphy skittered backwards, safely out of the range of Red's weapon. "That won't be necessary, man. Look, I gotta run- there's this thing, and it keeps chasing me. Can I go with you guys?"

Red twirled his spear so the vicious head was pointed directly at Murphy. One long step and a strong thrust, and this puny mortal would be a shish kabob. Bogeyman took pity on what Red viewed as prey, snagging the handle of the spear. He was about to say something when the Pyramid Heads were illuminated by two lights and the tedious _whiiir-chug-chug _of a car straining to move. All three watched as a battered blue vehicle wobbled in its path, spewing black smoke from an exhaust pipe. The driver attempted a fishtail, almost becoming part of a dark storefront display as a result.

Henry, with his sunglasses on despite the fact there was no sun blinding him, said, "Get in." Then he made an odd clucking sound as the car accelerated backwards, then forwards, as if it was in a tug-of-war with invisible giants.

"We're really going to let him drive?" Bogeyman sighed.

"Hey, guys!" There was a passenger, shrouded in shadow, spastically flailing a hand in greetings. "It's me!"

"Travis Grady," Red spat the words out as though they were gravel on his tentacle. It was indeed Travis, the trucker who happened to get lost in Silent Hill, without any reason to be in the town other than he needed to get to Brahms.

"Yeah! I'm _so _happy to see you all again!" He waved until he was out of breath, pausing to pant before resuming, and repeating this cycle ad nauseam.

"I'll… uh… take my chances outside." Murphy watched the Void apprehensively as it sucked up the litter on the untended street.

"Too late," Red growled, scooping Murphy up bridal-style and attempting to shove the ex-convict through the broken backseat window.

"There's a door for a reason," Bogeyman sighed, grabbing the door handle and ripping it clean off. He held the thin silver piece in his hand, letting it fall to the blacktop. "Uh... whoops. There's _two _doors for a reason."

They piled in, Murphy pinned in between two Pyramid Heads. They were hunched strangely in their seats, more out of necessity due to their enormous size and helmets. The car dropped a good six inches with the new ton of weight added onto its back wheels, with the Great Knife resting on the windowsills. Its cutting edge faced the trio of passengers, and Red's spear rolled about on the dusty, bloody floor.

_Fresh blood, _Murphy noted.

"We are royally screwed if we get in an accident," stated Red, referring to the Great Knife. Should someone be thrown into its blade, they would meet a gory end. He then realized _Harry was driving. _"...Goddammit."

The car now inched along at five miles an hour, wailing and spinning its tires. They weren't in any danger of a bad crash, that was for sure.

"Uhh... Harry? Was this car... occupied?" Murphy inquired.

"No, why?" Harry replied.

Just then, the trunk sprung open, exposing a fuming Smog.

"Jesus Christ!" Murphy watched in horrified disbelief as acid corroded the thick glass shielding him from the creature. "What the hell is that?"

Red, perfectly calm, yelled, "Sparky!"

A rasp, vaguely akin to "Hello, Red." sounded from the Smog's blackened throat.

"You... you _know _this... this _thing_?" Murphy shielded his face with his hand, as though that would do him any good should Sparky attack.

"Sparky is not a _thing._" Red indignantly smacked the back of the human's head; stars danced in Murphy's vision and blackness throbbed at the edges of it.

"Oww..." he complained weakly.

"Sparky, do ya need a ride?" Red offered, shouldering the car door open, denting it in the process.

"Sure," Sparky hissed.

"Where to, Sparks?" Harry fistbumped the new occupant, Red's replacement.

Murphy scooted closer to Bogeyman, frantically itching the arm closest to Sparky as the flesh broke out in hives. "Red, where are you going?" he asked. Given a choice between Red and Sparky... he'd choose the Void. He had no choice, however, pinned in place by a Pyramid Head mimic and a Lying Figure-esque monster with bright yellow lungs heaving sporadically.

Red yanked his spear out of the car, shuffling towards the front. "No offense, Harry, but I walk faster than this thing." With characteristic swagger, he stalked off into the fog and was swallowed up, but his bass voice rumbled, "Say, has anyone seen a little girl?"

**Gracias para leyendo. :D **


	6. Chapter 6

**After an eon of waiting, I bring you The Butter Cake Quest!**

**As always, constructive criticism is very appreciated. :D**

Valtiel lay flat on his back on Henry's couch, enjoying the silence of the empty apartment, lon since accustomed to the ambient noise. The fan, as if demonically possessed, whirred through the air with a rapid _chopchopchop_ and the windows were slamming open and shut loudly. Originally, the television was unresponsive to the remote and kept blaring static, but the god soon found all the remote needed was batteries, and so the television went off.

He licked his finger and turned the page of the book he lofted above his head, absorbing eagerly the dilemma of some whiny teenager convinced a fellow schoolmate was a vampire.

"Oh, Bella," he chuckled. "If you only read the information on the back of your own book, you'd know Edward was a vampire."

He set down the book to grab a drink, finding none other than Walter Sullivan staring at him disdainfully. Valtiel jumped and chucked the book at Walter, accusing, "Jesus, Walter, don't you knock?"

Walter chortled softly as he wended his way to the bookshelf, pondering the paperback contents before selecting a copy of _Rough and Ready _by Sandra Hill, flicking open to a seemingly random page. "I've been here for longer than you think," he casually intoned.

Valtiel righted himself, muttering, "Of course, what with you being a ghost and all." He observed the book Walter held. "I didn't know you read."

"I don't. I just hold books to make myself appear smarter," Walter stated.

Aware of the contents of that book, Valtiel grimaced and began to advise, "Yeah, maybe that's not the best-" a thought then crossed his mind- "actually, what do I know? That book's a modern classic. You'll pick up all the bitches in the reading circle with that thing."

"Excellent." Walter tucked the book into an interior pocket of his bloodstained trench coat.

"So what'd you come here for?" Valtiel fetched his own book, flipping through the five hundred pages to locate the one he was on. "You're not the type for idle conversation."

"I heard you organized a group of your little minions to scurry around Silent Hill and pick up butter cake." Walter crossed his arms and faced Valtiel, grinning without any happiness.

"Uhh, yeah..." The god sounded confused.

_"Why was I not invited?" _The murderer's tone quivered with pent-up emotion, and he phased across the room in a mere blink of an eye to loom over the smaller man-creature.

"You honestly want to run around with some idiot to search for butter cake?" Valtiel deadpanned. "If I'd known that, I certainly would've called on your assistance."

"You know how much that hurts, man?" Walter clutched fistfuls of his dirty blond hair, obviously on the verge of crying. "You could've invited me, and I could've declined, bro! You didn't have to just pass me over like you assumed I wouldn't help. Or maybe you think I can't help! Maybe you think I'm useless!"

"I think you need to take your Midol and eat some chocolate, but I don't think you're useless," Valtiel defended himself, raising his hands in surrender.

Walter was honestly crying now, the hot tears flowing down his cheeks. "Who was it?" he questioned, voice ominously quiet. When Valtiel did not respond within a fraction of a second, he whipped out a pistol and pointed it at the organizer of the butter cake mission. _"Who was it?" _he yelled, livid.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sullivan. Put... put the gun down. You're scaring me." Valtiel's hands visibly shook as the cold muzzle of the pistol was pressed into his chest.

"I won't put the gun down until you give me a freaking _answer,_" said Walter. "You know goddamn well that someone requested you to not invite me. Now _who, _Valtiel?"

"No need to get all pissy-"

"I'll get as pissy as I want!" he sobbed. "All my life, I was ignored, not invited to anything. It screws a kid up, you know? I often wondered, how could the world treat an innocent child like that? And I swore to myself that I'd never be ignored again. And I most definitely will not be passed up by you, you miserable little rat. I swear to Mother, if you don't tell me in ten seconds who told you not to invite me, I'll send this bullet straight through your worthless brain. _And your ten seconds began eight seconds ago!"_

_"Townshend!" _Valtiel spluttered frantically, watching with horror as Walter's finger twitched on the trigger. "It was Townshend. I swear. Townshend- yeah, Townshend. Never trust that Townshend. Damn Townshend."

Walter cocked an eyebrow. "You done?"

"Townshend. Okay, now I am."

He reluctantly withdrew the gun, clenching the arm firmly to his side. "Well, if you're wrong, I'll have murdered an innocent man."

"Uh, no offense, but you never really had any qualms with that in the past-"

_"Shut your mouth!"_

"Sorry."

Walter again sheathed the pistol, his dulcet tone unfaltering as he cordially nodded and stated, "Thank you for your help. It is much appreciated." With that, he lumbered towards the front hall, turning left and shimmering through the laundry room door.

"If you're looking to get out, you're going the wrong way," Valtiel called after him. He tilted his head back and stared at the maniacal fan, letting out a quivering sigh, his novel forgotten in his lap. "Sorry, Townshend," he apologized towards the ceiling, "but it's every man for himself."

"'All is fair in love and war'." Walter's head popped out from the closed door. "Francis Smedley. That's right, I read. And I know you recommended a porn book to me. To be honest, you are more corrupted than the soul of Dorian Gray."

"Wha- how? Didn't you have difficulty reading your cult's propaganda texts?" Valtiel doubtfully questioned.

"You're right." Walter's head disappeared, replaced by his hand, proudly displaying a sleek black smart phone. "I have no clue what any of this is, but my iPhone here has access to Wikipedia! That's right, I can now make references to literature to make myself appear smarter! Hold on, hold on, I found a good one from _Death of a Salesman..._"

Valtiel chucked his book at Walter, falling just short of his target. "Get out of here."

Walter cackled triumphantly as he happened across a blog, "Hey, Valtiel! You should hear what the Interwebs have to say about the _Twilight _saga you adore so much!"

Valtiel shrieked as if he was shot, violently squishing his palms against his ears. "_NononononoNONONO!" _

"You mad, bro?"

Valtiel's blood turned to ice in his veins, the horrors of the previous conversation paled in comparison to this newest atrocity. He had been threatened at gunpoint. He had effectively sentenced Henry to a painful and bloody death. He had unleashed on the other poor saps a coldblooded murderer. But nothing- _nothing- _was comparable to the implications contained in those three words that rang raucously in his ears.

Walter. Had. Found. 4chan.

**Screw the likes of "Silent Hill 2", "Amnesia", and "Penumbra", 4chan is bar none the most terrifying entity to have ever sprung from the prosperity of mankind.**

**but i still worship anonymous /)(o3o)(\**

**G'night, everybody! Or good morning, or good afternoon, depending on what time zone you're in.**


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